Pretty Eyes
by The Little Scorpion
Summary: She was the only one He’d ever desired.


She dared to look upon Him with those "pretty eyes." His praise made her swoon, His complements made her breathless, her heart skip giddily in her chest and her muscles fluttered around His fingers that were between her parted thighs making her arch her back with a shuddering whimper.

She lifted one shaking hand and ran it down His arm to his wrist, trying to push His fingers deeper inside her, He allowed her to do it for the simple fact it was her doing it and obliged her hunger by inserting another long finger.

He'd never truly desired anyone until Bellatrix. Of course He'd committed the act of sex with a number of women in His youth.. before.. His physical change.. but He'd never enjoyed the encounters, until Bellatrix. Bellatrix was different. Bellatrix was worthy of His attention. His.. affection even.

His physical appearance now didn't resemble Him before His almost death sixteen years before but Bellatrix didn't care. Where others looked upon Him with fear and yes, repulsion, she looked upon Him with awe and complete adoration burning in those pretty eyes.

He was surprised at first she still wanted Him, still desired Him, but of course He knew He shouldn't have been, Bellatrix always had looked beyond the flesh to the power within.

She was still a vain little witch, her year out of Azkaban had seen her perfect, sculpt and polish herself back to her former beauty, but He couldn't hold that against her, she was after all, a Black, and the Blacks were all known for their vanity, one couldn't change the habit of a lifetime and He'd be a liar if He said her beauty didn't please Him, though it was her essence that had always drew Him towards her.

"M-Master.." She stuttered out that one word, that one word He loved to hear her say and that one word she loved to speak, especially in moments like this. She was writhing now, her hips grinding against His hand begging for release.

"My sweet girl, such a good girl." He felt her emotions, could see them well in her pretty eyes in the form of shining tears. Gods she was so beautiful when she was like this, completely under His control, not that she wasn't always but this.. when she surrendered everything to Him, mind, body, soul, she was sentient.

She was on the brink, He could feel her muscles tightening around His fingers and He eased in another, cruelly perhaps, because He knew it would hurt and she sucked in a breath of pain but didn't protest, only rolled her hips up and tipped her head back against the pillows. Black curls like spilled ink on the stark white sheets.

He wanted to be inside her then, to feel her, to narrow her world to just Him, though it was already. His fingers pulled free of her wet and shining, and He heard her slight whine of protest which turned into a needy moan when He replaced them with His cock. Sliding inside her to the hilt in one long stroke.

She lifted her arms, put her hands on His chest, a daring move but He didn't correct her, she was staring into His eyes, the only person brave enough to ever do so, as He began to fuck her slowly.

They stayed in that position for a few minutes, His strokes deep and slow, making her gasp and whimper, then He pulled away and shifted her to lay behind her. She was docile, ever compliant, and lifted her leg to give Him access and He pressed His cool lips to her shoulder as He entered her again.

Spooned against her like that freed His hands to feel her body and pert little breasts. He fucked her gently, with tenderness even, something no one would think Him capable of, but then no one knew Him like her.

Their hips were rolling with a relaxed rhythm, His erection sliding, not slamming into her like her husband did, hr often saw her sit with a wince, and He always found it roused anger in Him. Not that sometimes their coupling wasn't carnal, primal and brutal, but Voldemort had more self control than any man, and He'd learnt Bellatrix responded so much better to a gentler touch, probably because she didn't receive one very often.

The slow easy pace only heightened the pleasure of sex. She was purring; each time His balls pressed against her pussy she rolled her back, like a cat enjoying the stoke of a hand. She reached over His head and pulled it down harder to her shoulder, coaxing Him to bite her, which He did, making her shudder and moan louder as He licked her skin then started kissing the nape of her neck which caused her to shiver again.

He worked His mouth to her face then she turned to Him as far as she could and their lips met, tongues quickly joined the ritual. She rolled to her back and lifted her near leg so He had more room to fuck her, His cock pressed even deeper.

She purred deep and let out a quivering groan as His cock clenched inside her, pushing her those few blissful feet over the edge into a cried out orgasm. He felt her body tremble and surged into her repeatedly, anointing her insides with His seed and growling in her ear, "You're mine." Her back arched and she gripped onto Him as if her life depended on it, tears in those pretty eyes from the intensity and His hand stroking her hair from her face.

"Yours. Master."


End file.
